Friday Night
by Keynn
Summary: It's movie night at the Dupain-Cheng bakery, and Chat fits right in. - MariChat
1. Chapter 1 Part I

**Friday Night**

 _MariChat_

 **Chapter 1; Part I**

* * *

Adrien is thinking it wouldn't hurt to have a friend, wouldn't hurt to be wanted.

Marinette, Adrien is thinking. Marinette is good and gentle and a little goofy, but in the cute way that is kind when Adrien isn't Adrien, when Adrien is Chat Noir. When the house is cold and marbled surfaces, echoed sounds, twenty three closed doors that never open, Adrien thinks first of Ladybug, full of passion, and then of Marinette, full of a happiness.

It's not wrong, thinks Adrien, to approach her as Chat, even when she hardly talks to Adrien. Marinette will talk to Chat - it's not manipulative to seek her out; Marinette might even _like_ Chat.

"Plagg," Adrien says, alone in his dark room, hollow walls, light seeping in from the setting sun and the desk lamp - he hasn't seen his dad in two days, not abnormal, he's not likely to see him for another two.

Chat is out the window, down the gutter pipe, across the rooftops. He doesn't want Nino's pity, good intentioned as it is. He just wants a night to keep the illusion that a home life doesn't matter - doesn't exist.

The Dupain-Chengs live in a bakery that can be smelled half a block before it can be seen and at some point, his nose is leading him, not his eyes, until he's there, at her window. The room is dark and it's a little weird, maybe, he feels kind of bad - kind of like an intruder…

He knocks twice, gets no answer and knocks twice more. It doesn't occur to him, until just now, that she might not even be home, might be off with _her_ friends. Alya, most likely, and he's envious and sad but of course she'd be out - Marinette is loved. He's about to turn around, leap away to somewhere else, maybe a high place because he likes high places, because high places make him feel better, but the light flickers on and he sees her walk in - clad in PJs, hair down, brush in hand - he knocks again.

Marinette jumps and whirls around and she sees him immediately; it's funny, watching without sound, he sees the intake - the eep, because he's startled her but there's no sound - like a silent film. He grins at her, waves in what might have been embarrassment, but he's too happy to be ashamed.

Marinette runs to the window and opens it. Chat half falls in and half slinks.

"Good evening, princess," he purrs. She sticks her head out into the cold air, looks once to the left and then to the right and the turns on him.

"Are you alright?" She asks, looking confused. Chat is also confused.

"I'm a hero, princess!" He flourishes, "it'd take a cat-astrophe to bring me down," and he winks, for good measure. Marinette rolls her eyes, but flashes an amused smile. "Well then, to what do I owe the pleasure?" She says, humoring him.

Chat has no great answer. There's not a rational reason he's here as opposed to anywhere else. Chat Noir is supposed to be saving the city, not crashing in through people's windows, so he hesitates. Unsure how to answer, unable to do so.

Marinette doesn't say as much, but she probably catches on to it, the tense shoulders, the flicker of the eyes, Marinette knows how to read situations, Adrien knows, he's seen her defuse and he's seen her comfort and he's seen her catch a crowd, so he knows she knows even what she doesn't say. And it might have been mortifying to have her relay his insecurities, but she's tactful, too.

"My parents are out until late so I'm watching movies," she says, "and I'm making cookies-"

Chat's whole face lights, like the Effie tower, he can't hide it, the idea of cookies - fresh, warm, cookies.

"I'm sure you're very busy saving Paris tonight," she smiles.

"Never too busy to help a friend in need!" Chat says. "I'm a meow-velous taste tester!"

Whether Marinette says it, knows it, or doesn't, she is the remedy to his loneliness. She drags him by the tail into a world where even in the darkest room there is security. And wrapped in a blanket, munching cookies, Marinette, curled into the arm of the couch, beside him, watching some of the worst movies he could possibly dream of, Adrien doesn't know that he's ever been happier.

Is sure that he hasn't.

* * *

 _Cross posted at AO3. Based on a fanart I saw on tumblr. (I'd give a link, but doesn't take those well and I'm uploading from my phone ... Which is already kind of hard.)_

 _I wanted to write a little fluff for these two goofballs. I might go back and add a couple more chapters later on, but for now I hope you enjoy. And please leave a comment if you feel so inclined~!_


	2. Chapter 1 Part II

**Friday Night**

 _MariChat_

 **Chapter 1; Part II**

* * *

"Chat," says Marinette – her voice soft and ambient, part of the room, nearly pitch black now, illuminated by the dull glow of static on the television. There are long shadows on the walls from the furniture.

Adrien remembers first that Marinette was asleep, a quarter way through "Tales from Beyond;" she doesn't snore, not quite, but her breathing is deeper when she's asleep and it can be heard. Her head against the sofa arm, her legs across his lap. He remembers that, he doesn't know that he'll ever be able to forget it, would never want to anyway. Who would have thought? Marinette …

Adrien remembers second that he can't remember the ending of the movie. He goes to rub his eyes, yawns. There's a blanket draped over his head, enveloping him, he feels like he's three years old again, pretending to be a ghost.

"Chat," whispers Marinette, again, "you have to go."

"Five more minutes," he says, pulling the blanket closer to him. He's sitting up still - he fell asleep that way - but now he sways to the other sofa arm, his head lands on it with a dull, soft thud.

"No, Chat," Marinette insists, " _now,_ " she says it with such pleading sincerity that it worries him, and then she pushes his thigh with her foot, trying to jostle him awake, "I think your disguise is gone…"

And Adrien stills, he runs his hand over the pocket of his hoody and he can feel Plagg there, a bump in the material, probably still asleep.

"Oh," says Adrien, bolting back up, his head snaps to Marinette, she's got blankets clutched over her head, hiding.

"Yeah," comes her muffled reply. Adrien brushes his blankets off quickly, feels his face for a mask which isn't there and his heartbeat starts racing before he's got a chance to calm it down. Marinette won't peak because she's honest and good, and knowing this helps. A wayward thought strikes him that he's not sure he would mind if Marinette knew … but then he thinks of Ladybug; he wants her to be the first one to know his identity. Marinette is important to Chat, but Ladybug, whoever ladybug is, she's the one that captivates Adrien.

Even that is a bit of a lie; Marinette is important to Adrien, too. Everyday he is a little more amazed by her, it's unfair to think that she's anything less than one of his closer friends, even when they're only together as Marinette and Chat Noir. After all, Chat is as much Adrien as Adrien is Chat, they're not mutually exclusive.

"I guess I _should_ go," says Adrien, standing, stretching, walking around the couch. He folds his blanket into a square and throws it over the sofa's back. Marinette also sits up, but she keeps the blanket firmly in place.

"I," she says, hesitates, "I'm glad you came over, I had a good time." There's a smile in her voice that Adrien can hear which catches him off guard with its utter innocence. And so Adrien does something that surprises them both. He lifts the blanket up over her head, sets it beside her, she's ramrod, staring forward, more worried for his sake than he is and her hair is static-y and sticking up haphazardly due in part to that, and the added help of having fallen asleep.

It's the static that causes the small shock on his lips and her cheek when he kisses her. It's such an unexpected surprise that he laughs and so does she, which is for the best, he thinks; it makes him feel better about the action – makes him feel like he doesn't have to apologize.

"Thank you, princess," he grins. And, not sure what exactly he's thankful for, he disappears out the door.

Marinette is red faced, straight backed, it takes everything in her not to turn around, to get a glimpse of who Chat is, every muscle is screaming with the strain of it. When the door clicks against the dead silence she relaxes, flops into the back of the couch, her cheek still tingling, and thinks the impossible might be happening.

* * *

 _A continuation of Chapter 1, because rereading it ... it seemed a bit incomplete. ^^;_


End file.
